


Pursuit of Perfection

by Middaywisher



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Embarrassment, Sabotage, Training, Tricks, enf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middaywisher/pseuds/Middaywisher
Summary: "A knight has to be prepared for any situation," Ingrid whispers to herself, her hands shakily fumbling with the hem of her pajama shirt.Am I really going to do this?she wonders. It isn't too late for her to change her mind. After all, it is silly to let some comments from Hilda,Hildaof all people, get to her... She sighs. The lazy noble did have a point, though, however ludicrous it may be.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Pursuit of Perfection

"A knight has to be prepared for any situation," Ingrid whispers to herself, her hands shakily fumbling with the hem of her pajama shirt. _Am I really going to do this?_ she wonders. It isn't too late for her to change her mind. After all, it is silly to let some comments from Hilda, **Hilda** of all people, get to her... She sighs. The lazy noble did have a point, though, however ludicrous it may be.

*

The pink haired noble had been as insouciant about her training as always, content merely lazing about the training grounds and watching Ingrid give everything she had and more into her own training. The sun was high, and it was just the two of them there. The professors had requested that both girls train at the same time. Ingrid suspected that they hoped to motivate Hilda by having the lazy noble be there with her, after all it was well-known that she trained hard enough for three students, but it seemed to be for naught. Hilda seemed to agree with that stance, seemingly believing that Ingrid's training was enough for the both of them. Ingrid knew the only reason Hilda hadn't left yet was because she was expressly told she couldn't leave until Ingrid did. And with Hilda's only options being to train or watch Ingrid train, it didn't surprise her which one Hilda chose. Ingrid had no intention of letting her spectator detract from her own focus though, starting her exercises from the top once more.

It was when Ingrid was cycling through her usual exercises for the fourth time, the sweat from her exertion literally flying off her body as she went through the motions, that Hilda spoke up. "Soooo... why are you trying so hard?" Hilda asked. Ingrid could see her cocking her head to the side. Her training "partner" was sat next to one of the columns nearby. Ingrid supposed that even sitting up straight was too much effort for the girl, because she was leaned back, using her hands to support her. "Like, everyone knows you want to be a knight, but isn't this just a tad excessive?"

Ingrid broke out of her form, turning to face her partner, her training lance propped against her shoulder. She was panting lightly. "Not at all," she said, using her sleeve to wipe some of the sweat from her forehead. Or, at least she tried. Her sleeve, much like the rest of her clothes, were soaked with sweat. "I aspire to become one of the best knights in all of Fodlan. This is the minimum level of effort that should be expected."

"I mean, I guess that helps you get really good at those specific motions and helps your stamina," Hilda observed, "but beyond that is it really all that helpful?"

Ingrid felt the vein in her forehead start to protrude. Her hand clenched around the shaft of her lance. _Is she really going to start critiquing my training when she doesn't even do her own,_ Ingrid wondered. Despite her feelings, she wanted to keep things civil. "I don't know what you mean," she gets out, forcing a smile to her face. "I've found it to be quite helpful. And, besides, this isn't the extent of my training. Today I decided to focus on my lance techniques, tomorrow I'll work on my swordsmanship, the day after will be axes, and then I have permission to practice my mounted combat the day after that. I also train at different times of day and, sometimes, in different environments, such as on the mountainside or in the woods farther down the mountain - there's a lovely clearing down there that makes for good grassland practice as well as a good place to take a break. This way I can simulate various battle situations and condition that I may experience in the future. After all, a good knight needs to be ready for anything at all times. You never know when trouble will strike." Ingrid finished proudly, the smile on her face shining brilliantly.

Hilda blinked twice, clearly at a loss for words. "Wow... it seems that somehow you're even _more_ dedicated than everyone gives you credit for," Hilda said. "But it sounds like you could use a break. If you train yourself to exhaustion every day, then you won't be at your best if trouble strikes afterwards."

"Thank you for your concern," Ingrid said. "But I am well aware of my limits. I always stop before I get to the point of exhaustion. I may feel some fatigue after training, but I make sure I stop with enough energy in me to charge into battle if need be."

Hilda hummed and tilted her head to the other side. "So, when you mentioned you 'simulate various battle situations,' what exactly did you mean? Do you like run around without shoes or in your pajamas? Ooooh, ooooh, have you ever trained naked?" Hilda said, a smile plastered on her face. It looked innocent enough, but it felt off-putting for Ingrid, and the line of questioning caught Ingrid off-guard, bringing a blush to her cheeks. 

"Wha-what? Of course not! Why would I do that?" Ingrid asked, feeling defensive. _What does she take me for?_

"What?" Hilda said sweetly. "It was an honest question. You can't really simulate many different situations if you're always training with an optimal or semi-optimal setup... Every little difference could be pretty major in a combat situation, you know. For instance, say you're out camping and you get attacked in the middle of the night... You won't have the time to get changed from your pajamas to your gear. You may not even have time to throw on your shoes before you have to run off to battle. Have you ever fought in the grass barefoot?"

Ingrid stared at her bewildered. "No, I don't think I have."

"Then it would be reasonable to say you're unaccustomed to fighting like that," Hilda noted. "And you would be at a disadvantage, then. After all, shoes help you keep your footing. If you aren't used to fighting barefoot on the grass, you could end up slipping and sliding all around the battlefield, especially if it's slick with morning dew. You can't be the best you can be like that."

"I hadn't considered that before," Ingrid admitted.

"It's the same thing with the clothing situation," Hilda continued. "Fighting in your uniform is different than fighting in your armor. You're accustomed to fighting in both of those already, but I'd be willing to bet you fighting in your pajamas would be different from either of those because they support you differently. And, taking that to it's natural extreme, you would be unaccustomed to fighting naked for a number of reasons, of course. So, if we put it all together, you would be completely out of your element if you were fighting barefoot and naked in the woods."

"When - when would I ever have to fight naked, let alone fight naked in the woods." Ingrid stammered.

"Oh, _Ingrid_ ," Hilda said. "You have to use your imagination more. You never know what might happen. You're the one that said 'a good knight needs to be ready for anything at all times,' after all. Maybe you were bathing in the river and an enemy battalion stumbled upon you or something like that. But, I guess, then you would also have to consider that you would be all wet in that scenario..." She hummed again. "Maybe you just finished drying off from a bath and then they came upon you, who knows," she shrugged. "Anything and everything encompasses a lot of possibilities." Her sickly sweet smile was back.

"Uh, thank you, Hilda... You've given me a lot to think about." Ingrid said, nodding. "I.. I think that's enough training for me today. I'll leave you to start yours."

"All righty, good talk," Hilda said, waving her off. " _Oh!_ And be sure to tell the professors I participated in your training today, okay?" Ingrid was sure to let the professors know that Hilda didn't train at all while she was there when she was asked. But she did give a lot of thought to what Hilda said. _She has a point,_ Ingrid conceded to herself. How could she hope to be the best if she was unprepared for so many different scenarios.

*

And that led her to where she was today, down in the woods, tentatively grabbing at the hem of her shirt well before the break of dawn. For the past two weeks she had gone outside of her usual training plan, waking up extra early in the morning or late at night to train under new... conditions... in privacy. She had no intentions of training at the training grounds with any of the new "situational conditions" she was going to apply. Well, of course, other than the barefoot fighting. There was no harm in that there. It wasn't the only place she was practicing it, though. She had tried it on the gravel of the mountain side as well as in the woods, and she unfortunately found that what Hilda said did ring true. Fighting on the gravel without shoes was very uncomfortable, and she found her form being disrupted every so often when she stepped on an awkward rock or her feet slid in the sand. She imagined that do so after or during a rain shower would provide her yet another environmental hazard to adjust to: mud. It was not something she had to deal with yet, but she imagined it would take some adjusting to. Fighting in the woods without shoes wasn't too bad. While not as rough on her feet as the gravel, it did bring its own issues, however. She found that without her shoes, she slid much more easily, especially when the ground was damp. Which meant if she wasn't careful she could be pushed back or put off balance were in battle. It was something she needed to rectify.

It was because what Hilda said about barefoot fighting rang true that Ingrid decided the other scenarios merited consideration. Ingrid hadn't viewed much purpose in practicing in her pajamas, despite what Hilda had said though. After all, her pajamas consisted of a really long shirt, which was the equivalent of fighting in a dress, something that Ingrid was already accustomed with, much to her granny's disdain. So, that just left...

Ingrid can't imagine that fighting in the nude would ever be something needs to do, but just in case she ever does need that skill, she wants to be prepared. Preparing for an eventuality that should never have to come to pass, however, is not something she needs to do anywhere she runs the risk of being caught. And, unfortunately training in her room isn't an option, considering the rooms aren't big enough to practice in. That narrowed it down to just one place she could reasonably train for this. The clearing she is currently residing in. 

The woods itself is far enough from the Monastery that no one from there should be around, and her clearing should be especially safe. As far as Ingrid knows, no one knows about it. Nor does anyone have any reason to find it. It's a several minute trek into the woods, and if you don't know where your looking for, then you will likely miss it. Aside from herself, no one should have any business in there.

"It's fine," Ingrid says. "It'll be fine." She finally grips the hem of her shirt, gives a quick survey of her surroundings, and hoists it up and off her body. She does quick work of folding it, and soon it joins her change of clothes (her officer's academy uniform) and her breakfast in the pack she brought. Ingrid immediately feels the change, her whole body shivering. One arm moves to cover her newly bared chest, her nipples poking into it, and the other grabs her side. She finds her legs to be shaking ever so slightly under her. She looks around quickly to make sure she is still alone, a blush on her face. She is in the clear. "I can't believe I did that," Ingrid says, feeling out of breath already. _I see, so this is what makes fighting so different,_ she thinks. _Your body is completely exposed to the enemy and the elements... and you have a compulsion to protect your modesty... which would make you easy to strike down... Truly, this will be a tough challenge to overcome._ She isn't even naked and she can recognize that. Her arm doesn't want to move from her chest, and, as of yet, she still has her panties and boots. She is only half way there, and her body is already not listening to her, every part telling her she shouldn't be doing this. "If this were a real situation... I'd be dead." She looks down her body, seeing her brilliant white skin, the only thing protecting her modesty being her emerald panties. "I don't have time to waste," she tells herself, hoping it will help motivate herself to move. Class is not for several hours still, but other residents of the Monastery should be waking any time now. And while she is sure none of them will venture out to the woods (even if they do, the odds of them stumbling across her private training ground was exceptionally unlikely) she does not want to tempt fate.

She forces her arm from her bosom and takes a seat on the ground. She immediately feels the fresh dew on her butt, her underwear quickly absorbing it. _That's just one more issue of being like this,_ she thinks. She pulls one leg to herself, undoes it, and works it off her leg. Then she does the other. Once both are free, she gives her newly-freed little piggies a wiggle, making sure they still work. Then, she stands up and drops the boots by her pack. _Just one thing left,_ she thinks. _I can do this._ She closes her eyes, steeling herself. Her fingers hook into her waistband. She waits a few seconds. Then, she suddenly pushes them down with far more force than necessary, still not opening her eyes, her heart racing. She steps out of them and tries to regulate her breathing. When she opens her eyes, she does not look down. Instead, she looks around, making sure no audience suddenly appeared. She does not find anyone. It is then she decides to caution a glance down.

Everything is exposed. No matter where she looks, she spies her bare skin. Her eyes start at her toes and travel up her delicate-looking legs. They stop roaming once they spot her slit just out there in the open. Above it is a patch of blonde hair, acting almost like a guidepost to point any onlookers toward her most intimate spot. Once her eyes sufficiently confirm that, yes, she is indeed naked down below, they travel up her flat stomach until they hit a road block. Or rather, two road blocks. Her modest breasts sit there proudly on display, her nipples standing at attention. She can feel the blood rushing to her face, the shame burning up inside her. She really did it, she shouldn't have and she knows that, and yet she also knows she has to. Even naked, a battle is a battle, and she can't afford to be this stiff and hesitant if she were to ever be in this situation for real. She takes a deep breath before bending down and grabbing her underwear, tossing it with the rest of her stuff into her pack. Now she could begin her actual training.

She grabs her training lance, holding it firmly in her hand. Her whole body is shaking slightly. She does her best to make her legs separate and get into her usual starting stance. It takes much longer to get them to cooperate than it should. It doesn't help that when she finally gets into position, tentatively as it may be, a gust of wind blows over her, immediately prompting her to drop her stance and huddle in on herself, her legs firmly closing and her arms hugging her chest. It takes time for her nerves to let her move her limbs again after that. When she does manage to get her body back into position, she cannot help but notice how weird it feels. The sensation of being in that position without her clothes. Her legs are shaking more now than before, but she pushes onwards. She doesn't have the luxury of waiting to acclimate to being like this before starting. It would waste too much time. She lunges the lance forward, her breasts sway in the motion, distracting her and throwing her off her mark. Had that been a real attack, she would have missed. She shakes her head and goes again and again until she feels she managed to hold a passable form. Then she starts to cycle through her regimen, repeating certain motions until she thinks she has done them sufficiently. After she finally gets through her usual set, she has more or less stopped thinking about her state of undress. She goes through her regimen again and the motions start to feel more natural again, her body less stiff. By her third round of her usual exercises, she is letting out groans with her exertions and swings, no longer keeping silent. When she finishes her third round of exercises, her skin is slick with sweat and her breath is rushed.

She drops her lance to the resting position and wipes some sweat from her brow. She considers what to do next. She could stop here, continue onto a fourth set of exercises like normal... or she could do the crazy thing and try to get a feel for how giving pursuit while naked would be. Because it is not uncommon for an opponent to try to retreat once they realize that they are in over their head. They would take the best evasive actions available to them. In the woods that meant running through the brush and bushes, darting around trees, and other things of the like. She shakes her head. "No, that would be a little too much." This is just her first training session. She could try to incorporate that other stuff into any would-be future naked training sessions, but for now all she wants to do is get dressed, eat her breakfast, and head back to the Monastery to go about her day. With a content smile on her face, Ingrid turns toward where she left her pack. It isn't there. She freezes. Her heart starts to race as she spins around, inspecting every piece of land around her. She finds nothing. Not even her boots. Her blood rushes to her face and it feels like her heart is throbbing in her head. _Someone saw me! Someone saw me and they stole all my stuff!_ One hand shoots between her legs and the other over her chest. Her lance falls unceremoniously to the ground. She can't believe it. _How long were they there for? How did I not notice?_ She wonders. She hadn't let that pack out of her sight! Except... no, she had. Now that she thinks about it, she realizes that she had spent most of her time training facing anywhere but where her pack was, trying not to think about the fact that it held all of her clothes... _All my clothes were in there..._ Her gaze shoots to her surroundings, hoping to catch sight of the perpetrator somewhere out there. She doesn't. Shame and dread consume her. What was she supposed to do? There's no way she could go back to the Monastery like this! It would be humiliating. She could just imagine the stares, starting as soon as she got within viewing range of the gates, following her as she made a mad dash through the entirety of the Monastery to arrive at her dorm room. All her fellow students would see her, her friends would see... "What am I going to do?" She asks, finding herself at a loss.


End file.
